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The Steelhead With A Thousand Faces
Maybe if I take five more steps, throw one more mend, skate one more fly, a hero will appear, armored in chrome, and dance to the music of my singing reel.
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The Birth of A Fishing Town
Calf deep now in the cold river, Trent’s completed his prelude of silky false casts and is ready to start the show in earnest.
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In The End, Style Might Be All We Have
Over the course of 6 trips, in and out, and nearly 40 miles, I question whether or not it’s worth it.
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Banded
Folding neatly the greenhead splashed soundly onto the water. The old lady made quick work of the retrieve.
The gauchos of Patagonia know a thing or two about meat, and more than their fair share about staying well fed in open country. It’s only natural than that the tradition-rich South American cowboy culture invented asado. You don’t have to live your life horseback in the highlands to appreciate this immersive culinary experience, Read More
My motions are fast. Thoughts of work, family, the next fish or any number of other distractions cloud my mind. I barely see the big picture, let alone the details.Small, unheralded details provide the texture for our world. Each nick on a shotgun has it’s own story. Every feather on a bird, or spot, Read More
“Where are you going Dada?” asked my four year old as I rounded up layers, snacks and a water bottle. “Fishing,” I said. “Oh yeah,” he said knowingly, like it had been his idea to begin with. “With Ollie’s dad.” “Nope,” I said “Not with Ollie’s dad. All by myself today.” “But um… Cause, Read More
Regardless of the situation there is likely a single malt to match. Learning about the various distilleries, expressions, production methods, and the unique taste every batch produces is what I find fascinating about scotch. So here’s a virtual tour of what’s in my cabinet today and a few notes about each. Maybe it will give you, Read More
“Oooo, cool Dada! Look it!” declared my four year old as we organized fishing gear on the tailgate. “Oh yeah?” I asked, half listening. “Yeah. Do you keep your Hot Wheels in here?” It was a non-sequiter even by his standards. I looked up from my streamer box and found him wrist deep in the, Read More
Torrential rain pelted us like a prize fighter. Electricity in the air caused our rods to buzz. After 14 hours it looked like our hopes were dashed as we retreated into the forest. On any other day I would have packed it in and headed for home. But we huddled amongst the conifers in, Read More
Plink. “Yup.” She doesn’t suffer fools lightly. Plank. “Uh Huh!” Nor half hearted drives to the hoop. Plunk. “Who’s your Mama?” And heaven help the neighborhood boy who wanders into a backyard skeet shoot without his A-game. He’ll leave well fed, but also bewildered, red-faced and ashamed. Her sons – strapping athletic types –, Read More
Temps soar towards sixty. Small patches of snow linger on the banks. For February it’s a heatwave. My sinuses are clogged and my head is in a fog. Sweat builds on my brow as the heat builds inside my jacket and crawls up my neck. Cold water lapping at my calves provides some respite, but, Read More
First the cold becomes more concentrated; not colder exactly, just pushier than the frigid press everywhere else. It doesn’t happen every time I wade to the waist. Like that noise your car refuses to make for the mechanic, it’s maddeningly inconsistent. But when this focused discomfort does turn up –always at the same mid-thigh point, Read More
It stayed packed for five months, always in the truck or near the front door, usually with a dog curled next to it. Carried through lush bottoms full of wild roosters, and over high sagebrush plains in search of sage grouse, it acquired blood stains from chukar, and the unmistakeable smell of scotch from a leaky flask. The, Read More